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quietprofanity Jun. 20th, 2008 11:37 pm)
quietprofanity Jun. 20th, 2008 11:37 pm)Weird combo? Yeah, I know. Honestly, I don't feel like I can add much to what people have said about Persepolis except that it's a masterpiece and I waited far too long to read part 2 but maybe that was OK because being a young woman out on my own I understand the part of the books which detail her interactions with her family a lot better now, etc. etc. Oh, and it's genius. But when I read Face in conjunction with Persepolis, one scene from each book really struck in my mind and so I'll be talking about it in this review.
Onto Face ...
One question that occasionally comes up for a reader is how to deal with learning that the writer of a certain book you enjoyed is an absolute jerk. You're expected to not let it bother you, but sometimes the jerkiness can become really apparent, especially when it affects their writing or what they write about.
Unfortunately, Lucy Grealy, God rest her departed soul, was a jerk of an author who decided to write about herself. She had every reason to do it, because her story is unique and amazing. I enjoyed reading the book and I recommend it. That didn't stop me from putting down the book every few page and going, "God, she's SUCH a jerk. She's a jerk and her family's a bunch of jerks, too." And now I've said jerk so often it looks funny.
Moving on ... Lucy's story. When she was 9-years-old, Lucy hurt her jaw playing dodgeball and the pain which didn't go away afterward revealed itself to be Ewing's sarcoma, a highly fatal cancer of the bone. She lives cancer-free, but with a huge chunk of her jaw removed, making her a pariah. Throughout the book, Lucy details both her chemotherapy treatments and her own sense of alienation from the world and needing to feel like she's worthy of love.
The book is compelling. Now, I'm not naive enough to believe that memoirs are 100 percent truth, but when she talked about small details like the color of her vomit after countless chemotherapy treatments, which gave me a clear feeling in our cancer-ridden society that there's a possibility I could look down in a toilet bowl and see that staring back at me one day, or the poor markings on her toy animals, which were similar to mine. I liked hearing the whole of her thought process about her disease and the difficult process of re-constructive surgery. Her writing style also sweeps you along. I don't think its genius by any means, but it did place me in the moment and kept me reading.
She's still a jerk, though. To an extent, you can expect a person who lost a good portion of her jaw to be bitter. I certainly don't expect someone to be a perfect angel just because they had cancer. But I got the feeling Lucy would have been a bit of a jerk even if she never had cancer, because her family seemed like jerks, too. Her family is made up of Irish immigrants. As soon as they get to America, her brothers snot around about how richer everyone else is in bourgeoisie-capitalist America and how they're superior but also how unfair it is that they aren't as rich as everyone else. Her mother resents her for getting sick (says Lucy). Her father doesn't give her enough hugs. None of the boys like her. But she doesn't respect any of the boys she sleeps with because they must be screwed up to want to fuck the ugly chick. No one understands. I am a victim. I don't need your pity. I am an artist!!!
The worst came when Grealy talked about the charity religious strangers gave her during her illness. At one point, Grealy was put on a mailing list and Christian families wrote her letters urging her to stand strong, don't lose hope, etc. Her family reads these letters out loud and laughs at those stupid, sentimental saps who write her this bullshit. Lucy actually does feel bad about her parents doing that, but she proves herself to be just as much of an ungrateful snit in the next scene.
Lucy's mother works with Orthodox Jewish women. When they hear about her plight, they give Lucy their unused wigs. Her family take them and then totally treat it as a big joke and give them to their dogs and wear them around the house laughing, etc. When the women ask her mother if Lucy likes them, Lucy's mother says they don't really fit. The women suggest a wigmaker. Lucy and her mother go as a joke and at one point Lucy smiles at the wigmaker, pretending to like a wig that she really hates. Immediately afterward, Lucy's mother changes her tune and says she'll buy one for Lucy. Lucy is confused about this sudden change until she hears her mother telling a friend, "I didn't think she'd want one, and they're really expensive, but this is the first time in years I've seen Lucy smile." Lucy immediately takes this as a sign that her mother doesn't understand her pain because if she did, she would have known Lucy hated the wig.
I just wanted to yell out, "YOU STUPID, SELFISH BITCH! Your mother professes a wish to go out of her way and buy an expensive wig just to make you happy and you take it as evidence that she doesn't understand you. WHAT. THE. FUCK?" but I was in a cafe at the time and didn't.
I ... I just ... Fuck. When I read that I was angry with my Mom about something. I'd also recently read about Marjane and her mother reuniting after not being able to see each other in five years because of the Iraq-Iran War and Iranian Revolution. It was a beautiful sequence. The two of them barely recognizing each other because of how much they changed, Marjane semi-reverting back to a child in her mother's presence, how they had a fight over a cigarette but immediately dropped it because they knew they wouldn't have much time together. Reading both of these sequences made me immediately forget about my anger and call my mother. Sometimes it's necessary to be a better person and be thankful for what you do have.
One could say, "Well, she could have grown up by then." I don't really think so. Ann Patchett's afterword, which talks about Lucy Grealy's frustration with cancer survivors reading her book and wanting to share their experiences being such a drag because they didn't realize that Grealy is actually an ARTISTE and not here to help you with your piddling little chemotherapy pretty much cemented my impression of Grealy. And then when Patchett said a "real" version of Face would have had a lot more finger-pointing and blaming was like pouring the impression in gold.
Grealy's sister seems like a piece of work, too. "Oh my God! How dare my sister's friend write a book that we told her was OK to write. Well, you know she's a SUCKY WRITER ANYWAY!" Sheesh. I'm just saying.
Weird thing is I'll probably read Patchett's book, despite my distaste for the author. Funny how that goes.
So, yeah, once again: I recommend it. Jerk. Not much more to add.
Onto Face ...
One question that occasionally comes up for a reader is how to deal with learning that the writer of a certain book you enjoyed is an absolute jerk. You're expected to not let it bother you, but sometimes the jerkiness can become really apparent, especially when it affects their writing or what they write about.
Unfortunately, Lucy Grealy, God rest her departed soul, was a jerk of an author who decided to write about herself. She had every reason to do it, because her story is unique and amazing. I enjoyed reading the book and I recommend it. That didn't stop me from putting down the book every few page and going, "God, she's SUCH a jerk. She's a jerk and her family's a bunch of jerks, too." And now I've said jerk so often it looks funny.
Moving on ... Lucy's story. When she was 9-years-old, Lucy hurt her jaw playing dodgeball and the pain which didn't go away afterward revealed itself to be Ewing's sarcoma, a highly fatal cancer of the bone. She lives cancer-free, but with a huge chunk of her jaw removed, making her a pariah. Throughout the book, Lucy details both her chemotherapy treatments and her own sense of alienation from the world and needing to feel like she's worthy of love.
The book is compelling. Now, I'm not naive enough to believe that memoirs are 100 percent truth, but when she talked about small details like the color of her vomit after countless chemotherapy treatments, which gave me a clear feeling in our cancer-ridden society that there's a possibility I could look down in a toilet bowl and see that staring back at me one day, or the poor markings on her toy animals, which were similar to mine. I liked hearing the whole of her thought process about her disease and the difficult process of re-constructive surgery. Her writing style also sweeps you along. I don't think its genius by any means, but it did place me in the moment and kept me reading.
She's still a jerk, though. To an extent, you can expect a person who lost a good portion of her jaw to be bitter. I certainly don't expect someone to be a perfect angel just because they had cancer. But I got the feeling Lucy would have been a bit of a jerk even if she never had cancer, because her family seemed like jerks, too. Her family is made up of Irish immigrants. As soon as they get to America, her brothers snot around about how richer everyone else is in bourgeoisie-capitalist America and how they're superior but also how unfair it is that they aren't as rich as everyone else. Her mother resents her for getting sick (says Lucy). Her father doesn't give her enough hugs. None of the boys like her. But she doesn't respect any of the boys she sleeps with because they must be screwed up to want to fuck the ugly chick. No one understands. I am a victim. I don't need your pity. I am an artist!!!
The worst came when Grealy talked about the charity religious strangers gave her during her illness. At one point, Grealy was put on a mailing list and Christian families wrote her letters urging her to stand strong, don't lose hope, etc. Her family reads these letters out loud and laughs at those stupid, sentimental saps who write her this bullshit. Lucy actually does feel bad about her parents doing that, but she proves herself to be just as much of an ungrateful snit in the next scene.
Lucy's mother works with Orthodox Jewish women. When they hear about her plight, they give Lucy their unused wigs. Her family take them and then totally treat it as a big joke and give them to their dogs and wear them around the house laughing, etc. When the women ask her mother if Lucy likes them, Lucy's mother says they don't really fit. The women suggest a wigmaker. Lucy and her mother go as a joke and at one point Lucy smiles at the wigmaker, pretending to like a wig that she really hates. Immediately afterward, Lucy's mother changes her tune and says she'll buy one for Lucy. Lucy is confused about this sudden change until she hears her mother telling a friend, "I didn't think she'd want one, and they're really expensive, but this is the first time in years I've seen Lucy smile." Lucy immediately takes this as a sign that her mother doesn't understand her pain because if she did, she would have known Lucy hated the wig.
I just wanted to yell out, "YOU STUPID, SELFISH BITCH! Your mother professes a wish to go out of her way and buy an expensive wig just to make you happy and you take it as evidence that she doesn't understand you. WHAT. THE. FUCK?" but I was in a cafe at the time and didn't.
I ... I just ... Fuck. When I read that I was angry with my Mom about something. I'd also recently read about Marjane and her mother reuniting after not being able to see each other in five years because of the Iraq-Iran War and Iranian Revolution. It was a beautiful sequence. The two of them barely recognizing each other because of how much they changed, Marjane semi-reverting back to a child in her mother's presence, how they had a fight over a cigarette but immediately dropped it because they knew they wouldn't have much time together. Reading both of these sequences made me immediately forget about my anger and call my mother. Sometimes it's necessary to be a better person and be thankful for what you do have.
One could say, "Well, she could have grown up by then." I don't really think so. Ann Patchett's afterword, which talks about Lucy Grealy's frustration with cancer survivors reading her book and wanting to share their experiences being such a drag because they didn't realize that Grealy is actually an ARTISTE and not here to help you with your piddling little chemotherapy pretty much cemented my impression of Grealy. And then when Patchett said a "real" version of Face would have had a lot more finger-pointing and blaming was like pouring the impression in gold.
Grealy's sister seems like a piece of work, too. "Oh my God! How dare my sister's friend write a book that we told her was OK to write. Well, you know she's a SUCKY WRITER ANYWAY!" Sheesh. I'm just saying.
Weird thing is I'll probably read Patchett's book, despite my distaste for the author. Funny how that goes.
So, yeah, once again: I recommend it. Jerk. Not much more to add.
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The mother alienated her in-laws, scoffing at them and belittling them to their faces. Then, when the father left the boy and his mom, she decided she had to start visiting churches looking for a new rich husband, and spent time getting fit (even though she was still reletively young and pretty). She buys wigs and new clothes, etc. and goes out of her way to make herself seem younger.
Then she invents this internal bleeding and makes her young-teenage son drive her to the doctor. He does and lets her out while he parks. Then he waits in agony for hours in the doctor's office. He asks the nurse for news and she says, "Your mother isn't here!" So he sits in the waiting room all day, completely unsure what to do. At the end of the day, the nurses are closing the office and his mother strides in, laughing at 'having put one over on him' and telling him she actually had plastic surgery at another office within the building.
I just couldn't take it anymore. I have decided I hate to read about real people fucking up their own lives.
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Yeah, it sounds like that woman would annoy me, too. Especially the internal bleeding thing. Woman sounds like a bitch.
From:
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Sedaris' mother was funny, in an acerbic way. Considering David's lunatic antics, her husband's eating habits, having five intelligent and creative kids, plus dogs...! She just had interesting ways of dealing with everything, IMHO. She wasn't some great and generous person, and David didn't set her up as some mythically great mother-of-the-year, but she had a strong personality.
I haven't read Augusten's books yet, so I can't compare. However, I suggest avoiding Memoirs of a Beautiful Boy. (I can't recall the author's name; I think I'm blocking it out to save myself pain. He wasn't a very good writer, either.)
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I think I'll take your advice. There's a lot of good memoirs I haven't gotten to yet, I'm sure. No need to waste time on the bad ones. :)